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“Come in,” Reine-Marie called from the door. “It’s almost time.”
“Wind’s picking up,” said Monsieur Béliveau. “I’ll stay outside and watch the fire.” He turned to Félix. “You go in too. Get a hot chocolate and get warm.”
“No,” said the boy. “I want to stay with you. Fire needs watching.”
“Come along,” Armand said to Jean-Guy. “We’ll see this year out together.”
“You’re not going to kiss me at midnight, are you? By the way, you’re on fire.”
Armand looked down. Sure enough, embers had landed on his sweater.
Jean-Guy pulled the sleeves of his own sweater over his hands and batted the embers out.
Once inside they got two hot chocolates and took them out to the grocer and his apprentice, then joined the others around the television.
Reine-Marie put her arm through Armand’s and leaned into him. “You’re smoking.”
“Smoking hot?” he asked with a grin.
“No, no, just smoking.”
He looked down. Seemed Jean-Guy hadn’t quite got all the embers.
Reine-Marie patted him down. “This sweater was a Christmas gift, monsieur. You’ve had it a week.”
“Mrs. Claus is going to be disappointed.”
“Mrs. Claus understands that sometimes men set themselves on fire, for no particular reason.”
He laughed. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“I saved the sweater. You happen to be in it.” She hugged him tighter, smelling the wood smoke and singed wool mingling with sandalwood and rose. It was earthy and strangely pleasant.
“Shhhhh,” Ruth hissed. “It’s almost midnight.”
They leaned forward, toward the unblemished new year, as numbers appeared on the screen.
“. . . sept, six, cinq . . . ,” they counted down. “. . . trois, deux, un! Bonne année!” they shouted, laughing and hugging.
Reine-Marie and Armand embraced and kissed, as did other couples. Stephen tilted his head at Ruth, who closed her eyes and leaned toward him before Rosa popped up between them and he ended up kissing the duck.
A Roman candle lit the sky above the Inn and Spa. Monsieur Béliveau had also found silent fireworks, so as not to upset the animals. Which somehow made the display all the more magical.
Armand sought out Daniel, and gave him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Moi aussi,” said Daniel. Together they went outside to watch the fireworks.
The cold was forgotten as ooohs and aaahs filled the air. The crowd pointed and exclaimed. Pinwheels spun and skyrockets twisted and dragon’s eggs appeared overhead, lighting up their faces and the village of Three Pines below.
Sparklers were handed out to the kids. Félix showed Honoré how to dip the tip into the bonfire until a fountain of tiny stars burst from the end. Then he showed him how to write his name in the night. Soon all the kids were doing it.
“Little monkeys,” said Vincent Gilbert, coming up beside Armand and Reine-Marie, just as the display was ending. Gilbert was the only one smart enough to have put on a coat.
When all the fireworks were exhausted, they ran back inside to the fireplace, shivering and laughing.
Another year done. Another begun.
Billy Williams, left outside to tamp down the fire, smiled as he shoveled snow onto the flames and relived those moments to midnight. He’d positioned himself next to Myrna.
